


Secret hearts

by writerfan2013



Series: Secret Hearts [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Drabble, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4586487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerfan2013/pseuds/writerfan2013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prologue: Drabble of Gwen and Arthur, each thinking of the other. Arwen!</p><p>AU. Arthur is King, and Merlin's magic is known. Gwen and Arthur have shared adventures but nothing more.  This drabble is the setup for That Old Chestnut, Not Weakness, Surface Wounds and the longer story, The Blessing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret hearts

Secret love like water pouring into the shell of the fountain: filling, filling, filling, always a little escaping over the lip for smaller creatures to lap at. This elegant fountain, the dream of some logn ago sculptor, a marble cornucopia pouring emerald clear water into a veined marble shell.

 

She can tell no one. Who can you tell, when you love a lord? Long past as the days of giggling admiration as all the town girls sat together, shelling peas and sharing opinions of the handsome knights who passed by. Besides, as part of his household she is sworn to protect him, from inappropriate attention as much as from poisoners, sorcerers, thieves.

 

His eyes - blue like the wing of a jay in autumn - expect honesty and loyalty from all around him. The second she can offer with her whole heart. The first must be selective. "Tell me the truth," he demands. "Who is most loyal, fiercest to protect me, which of my people loves me most?" I do, she whispers to herself, but says Gawain, Osred, any name from the legion of men who would gladly die for their prince. "I know who it truly is," he says then, and a softness comes into his gaze. "You must never say that I know." Her heart pounds, but he only says, "I know that it's Merlin."

 

* * *

 

Secret love, like the edge of a sword forever against the stone, sharpening, finer and finer, a shower of sparks its only trace as the blade keens for its target.

 

He can tell no one. She is supposed to be beyond his notice. The sight of kings must fall only on the great - the people must remain a blur outside the castle wall, important but viewed as a mass, their myriad cares beyond his personal recognition. Yet here she is, vital to his household, as sharp and clear to him as any knight, any lady.

 

She is sworn to protect him - laughable idea, since with every glance from her eyes she endangers him, or at least, his heart.  Her eyes! They are the shadows in a hunter's wood, deep patches among the dappled sunlight, where wary creatures shrink back from the noise of his boot.

 

He could speak to her, command her company, insist. But any decent man wants to win a woman, not buy her. And beyond his title, and his sword hand, he has no charms to offer.


End file.
